Everlasting (The Immortals #6)(43)

The silence gathers around us. Damen

absorbed by his past, while I’m left speechless by his words. Eager to move past it, not wanting to dwel here for long, I’m just about to tel him that I have no idea what could be next, that his guess is as good as mine, when I see a smal boat anchored by the shore, anchored right alongside us. A boat that appeared out of nowhere, wasn’t there less than a second ago.

And knowing there are no accidents here, no coincidences of any kind, I grasp his hand in mine, and start leading him toward it, saying, “I think we’re meant to go for a sail.”





chapter twenty-two


I settle onto the seat, busying myself with rearranging the velvet pil ows at our backs as Damen slides in beside me. The boat is long, painted a dark glossy red with gold ornate swirls marking its sides, narrowing into a curving crest at both the front and the back in a way that reminds me of the gondola Jude and I once manifested in the Summerland version of Venice. But with no oar, no motor, no way to steer or guide ourselves, we’re at the mercy of the river. Left with no choice but to sit back and hope for the best.

The boat pul s away from the shore, drifting deeper into the water just seconds after we board, fol owing the current, giving no hint as to what might be in store. Damen slides a protective arm around me as we peer at the passing scenery, the way the river widens so swiftly it’s not long before we’re surrounded by nothing but deep dark water, the banks we once stood upon reduced to a slim speck of gold on a distant horizon.

I lean into Damen, wishing I could do something, say something to erase the hint of worry that plays at his brow, to ease the regret that burdens his heart. Seeing the way his eyes widen, the way he sits up higher, on ful -scale alert, as he looks al around and says, “It’s the River of Forgetfulness.”

I squint, vaguely remembering him mentioning such a place once before. Saying something about the soul taking a trip down the River of Forgetfulness before it’s reborn into the next life. That the purpose of that particular journey is so we don’t remember what came before—that we’re not meant to remember the lives we’ve just lived—that each incarnation offers a new journey of self-discovery, a chance to right our previous wrongs, to balance our accumulated karma, to find new solutions to old problems.

That life is not meant to be an open-book test. Remembering

how

Lotus

recently

said

something similar—that man’s fol y, his penchant for making the same mistakes over and over again, can be blamed partly on the river—and taking that as proof that Damen is right. It’s exactly what he thinks. Though it’s anyone’s guess where it wil end.

“Are we going to relive them all?” Damen asks, voice betraying a deep-seated reluctance, bearing no desire to ever revisit those painful early days he lived back in Florence, Italy.

But before he can get too bogged down in the

thought, I look at him and say, “No. It’s a test. We have to do whatever we can to not let ourselves forget al that we’ve learned. Lotus came to me just before you arrived, she said knowledge is revealed when we need it, which means we need to hang on to al we just saw. We can’t forget a single moment. I’m pretty sure we’re gonna need it for later.”

“It’s a lot to hang on to.” He frowns. “The river is tricky. And other than the fact that I’ve made a mess of the last several hundred years—that I owe Ava and the twins big time for taking their lives—what would you suggest I choose to concentrate on?

There’s a good chance that when we get off this ship and go back to our normal lives we won’t remember any of the things we’ve just experienced.”

I steal a moment to gather my reply, partly because he may not like what I say, and partly because I’m stil amazed that he’s looking to me for the answers. Taking a deep breath, venturing a quick look around, before I return to him and say,

“You need to remember that the soul is eternal. That love never dies. And that your failure to realize that, your attachment to the physical world is what brought us both here—brought us both to this point.”

There, I said it. It’s his fault. Stil , my voice bears no blame. He’s not the first to make that mistake. As Lotus said, it’s the fol y of man.

Damen’s just one of the few to actual y succeed at his attempt to thwart physical death—or at least for a while anyway.

“Then later, when we get through this, and wind up… wel , wherever we’l wind up, we’l need to use that knowledge to find a way to reverse what we’ve done—the mistakes that we’ve made,” I add, the words coming so quickly and easily it’s as though they emanate from some other place, but I know they emanate from some other place, but I know deep down inside, know in my gut, that they’re true.

“That’s my journey.” I nod, suddenly knowing it for sure. “That’s the truth I’m supposed to reveal. How?”

I peer at him, attempting to answer the question that marks his brow. “I’m not sure, but there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s what I’m destined to do.”

Damen looks at me, features hardened,

conflicted, though sticking to his vow to fol ow my lead.

And though I search for a better argument, a better way to persuade him that’l erase any lingering doubts, there’s no time to dwel . No time to assure him of what I know deep down inside to be true. Not with the current growing swifter.